Eulogizing Hermione
by mistress-steerpike
Summary: An in-depth look at the funeral of Hermione Granger, where secrets are revealed. Prelude to an upcoming story "Mad World", major "OotP" spoilers inside...beware.


Eulogizing Hermione  
  
By: Mistress_Steerpike  
  
A one-shot fanfiction story  
  
Pairing: Implied SS/HG  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Summary: The funeral of Hermione Granger, and the thoughts of those whom she has touched. A bit of a twist at the end, so be there. Some major spoilers for "OotP".  
  
I find it kind of funny  
I find it kind of sad  
The dreams in which I'm dying  
Are the best I've ever had  
I find it hard to tell you  
'Cos I find it hard to take  
When people run in circles  
It's a very, very  
Mad World  
  
--Gary Jules "Mad World"  
  
And so it went. Harry Potter was about to say goodbye to one of his closest friends...again. He was still fresh with grief over the recent betrayal of one Mr. Ronald Weasley, who had been persuaded to join ranks with Voldemort not long after his brother Percy had done the same. Molly was practically incapacitated with grief, and Arthur rarely talked of either of his sons, except to reminisce about the grand days when they were both innocent children.  
  
Harry seemed strangely quiet at the farewell ceremony, totally unlike how he had carried on in his fifth year when Sirius had died. In fact, Harry hadn't even shed a tear over the death of Hermione Granger, and people were beginning to think him cold.  
  
His eyes never left her open coffin during the ceremony. The whole experience seemed so surreal to him. He faintly heard the quiet sniffling of Mr. and Mrs. Granger; their grief noises were drowned out by the uncontrollable sobs of Molly Weasley, who had to be removed from the Great Hall.  
  
Harry was afraid to look at anybody, the sight of other people's grief was unbearable to him, it left him with an empty helpless feeling, and it always shamed him that he could never be very much comfort. Luna Lovegood was sitting next to him with the oddest expression on her face. She was somewhere in between complete stoicism and utter breakdown, and her hand was gripping Harry's tightly.  
  
"Professor Snape's hands are shaking," Luna commented out of nowhere. Harry craned his neck to the entrance, where Snape had been standing. It struck him as odd that someone like him would be present at Hermione's funeral. Of course, it had been requested that everyone show up, but lots of people had declined...like three fourths of the Slytherin house, and Filch.  
  
"What's he even doing here?" Ginny, who was sitting on the other side of Harry, inquired. Harry shrugged. Luna, however, seemed to know exactly what he was doing there.  
  
"He loves her," she stated dryly, and if the occasion hadn't have made it completely inappropriate, Harry would've started laughing.  
  
"Don't joke like that, Luna," Harry replied. It was her turn to shrug.  
  
Luna's observation on Snape's hands had been entirely true, even though an average human eye would've never been able to pick out such a slight movement from as far away as where she had been seated.  
  
Severus Snape stood apart from everybody else in the Great Hall. He didn't dare venture any further, knowing he would cause a few suspicions to be cast. He had already felt the stare of inquiring eyes from Miss Lovegood, a pupil he never quite understood. It pleased Severus to know that the replacements to fill the vacancies in the infamous trio were both of the female gender. He hoped they made Potter's head explode with whatever silliness girl's their age discussed. Potter would never figure out how irreplaceable Miss Granger had been.  
  
He could see her still body from where he stood. She had been frozen in time, he realized. The only thing that had changed was the clothes her parents had selected for the occasion. The wounds on her wrists had also been concealed. He'd never understood why she had done it. Stupid, stupid little girl, he thought bitterly.  
  
Suspicion be damned, he decided, approaching the front of the hall.  
  
The dark cherry wood coffin had been propped unto the main table. Just like a fucking main course dinner, Severus mused.  
  
He tried his best to look as dispassionate as possible, as he glanced down at her slumbering face. It occurred to him that he would prefer her eyes and mouth set in an angry glare, not unlike the one she usually gave him, over this serene death mask she had taken on.  
  
Her white hands had been crossed over each other over her chest, covering a cross necklace that her parents had also selected. Hermione wasn't religious, Snape's inner voice spat in disgust. She also would've probably hated the pure virginal looking white chiffon dress that THEY had put her in. Snape alone knew the extent of her so-called purity. There had been nothing pure about the blatant way she had attempted to seduce him in that far away time of the beginning of her seventh year. That first time he had laughed in her face, and sent her scurrying back to her Head Girl suite in Gryffindor Tower.  
  
The second time, however, had been a completely different story. He tried to block out the image of her legs wrapped around his waist, her voice chanting his name in rapid repetition.  
  
It almost made him laugh. Their courtship had been extremely unromantic. There had been no tender words, no holding hands, and no promises of the future. It had all been a series of frantic, fulfilling fucks.  
  
Gods, but he had loved her. And that is what prompted him to end the affair. He had been slowly becoming dependant on her presence in his everyday life, and there needed to be an end to it.  
  
And the end had been brutal. He had been brutal. In his own way, he wanted to see her cry. It would've confirmed that she had been developing the same feelings for him as he had for her. It unnerved him how dignified she appeared. She didn't even bat an eyelash. Or talk. She just...left.  
  
Her indifference had been enraging. So much so that he had been ready to hurl one of his precious vials at the wall...until he heard her outside the door. She hadn't been able to get halfway down the hall before collapsing into a heap of tears and sobs. He nearly shook with the effort to stop himself from rushing to comfort her. Instead, he had opened the door to his classroom and threw her a disgusted glare.  
  
"Have a bit more dignity, Miss Granger," he had snarled before slamming the door.  
  
The guilt he contained over what she had done days later consumed him. He knew, deep down in that cold storage area that was generally know as a heart, that he had driven her to it. Her feelings for him had been revealed in a most dramatic way.  
  
The guilt had been quickly replaced by hatred. How could he ever love someone as weak as she? He had been rejected countless times, and nobody saw him slitting his wrists in a running tub of water and bubble bath.  
  
No, you just sold your soul to the Dark Lord for whatever mindless pleasures that could be offered to you, said his conscience. He had forgotten that it existed.  
  
Severus found himself stalking back to the dungeons, leaving the scene behind him with a frantic pace.  
  
It was much later when he decided to return back to the Great Hall. By then, most of the guests had gone to their quarters, waiting for the burial ceremony in the morning.  
  
She was still there.  
  
Before he could realize it, he was kneeling at her side, taking one of her cold hands into his warm ones, and kissing it feverishly, hot tears flowing down his cheeks.  
  
"You stupid little girl," he repeated over and again, soothing a few errant strands of hair from her forehead.  
  
"You probably think this is so bloody funny, leaving me alone like this. What a marvelous revenge tactic, Miss Granger," he spat angrily, rising to his feet, and letting go of her hand.  
  
"You were greatly mistaken in thinking that this childish little action would hurt me, you little fool. I never loved you," his voice cracked, and he was on his knees again.  
  
"It worked. You win I lose."  
  
"Severus?" He jerked slightly upon hearing his name. Looking up, he saw Dumbledore standing behind him. He quickly stood up, face burning in embarrassment.  
  
"Headmaster Dumbledore," he greeted quietly.  
  
"I never saw you crying over Miss Granger's coffin, Severus. Now, if you'll please return to your quarters, I'll need to escort her to the Hogsmeade burial grounds yet tonight."  
  
"Thank you, Dumbledore."  
  
"Goodnight, Severus."  
  
Albus Dumbledore waited until Severus's footsteps were imperceptible before proceeding. He pulled a slender clear vial from his robe, quickly uncorked it, carefully opened Hermione's mouth with a free hand, and poured the translucent liquid down her throat.  
  
"It's time for you to take your leave, Miss Granger. Please open your eyes."  
  
As if she was waiting his command, Hermione's eyes slowly opened. They were unfocused for a while, the images around her a blur. Finally she gained control of them, and settled them on Dumbledore.  
  
"I ache," she whispered.  
  
"Understandably so, Miss Granger, you've been in a death-like state for about a week now. It's just like waking up after a good night's rest, all your limbs need is a good stretch."  
  
He gave her a few minutes to do just that before assisting her out of her coffin. She eyed it warily.  
  
"Most people never get to know what it's like," she murmured.  
  
"No, they don't."  
  
The End  
  
This is a prelude of sorts to a bigger project I am writing called "Mad World", in which you learn more about Ron's betrayal, and you get a look into the beginning and end of the affair between Snape and Hermione, and find out why Hermione is faking her death, and where she is being sent. Look for it soon! Thanks! 


End file.
